


The World of Your Body

by StarlightAfterAStorm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ended up being fluffier than I expected, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Possessive Sherlock, Smut, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightAfterAStorm/pseuds/StarlightAfterAStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock adores how responsive his Molly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World of Your Body

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broomclosetkink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broomclosetkink/gifts).



> Sooo... First time writing smut. Super embarrassed *blushes* But it demanded to be written. Also first Sherlock/Molly piece but hopefully not the last. 
> 
> Gifted because you're a sweetheart and appreciated when I sent you the first half.

Sherlock adores how responsive his Molly is. Always, but especially now, when they have all the time in the world. She is making those lovely soft kittenish mewls at the moment but those will change to deep throated groans and then to those sharp, high bird cries at the end, when she has no breath left in her for anything else. The way she arches and curves into his touch, so so trusting and open and _Molly_ , makes him curse before pressing her harder into the oblivion of the mattress. 

She digs her blunt nails into his skin and he knows that the prickling echo of that sensation will stay with him for days afterward, have him shifting his shoulders restlessly in an attempt to relive the moment. 

He’s gratified by the way her eyes darken when he teases her in retaliation. The pupils blown so very wide and everything about her begs him to take her. But he won’t. Not yet. Sherlock knows just how much pleasure his Molly is capable of. He knows where to lick and to nibble, knows just how hard to grip her, knows that she loves it when he turns his every focus on her.

One of his favorite things is to see just how long he can let it linger. How long can he let the pleasure simmer before neither of them can stand it? A kiss here, a soft suckle, and then the scrape of his teeth against the juncture of her thigh and hip. Oh, she’s begging now. No, naughty Molly. This is for your sake you know. Aren’t you always the one espousing the virtues of patience?

Restless fingers dive into messy curls and she pulls him up for a sloppy kiss. Sherlock lets himself enjoy the way she writhes against him because he’s pushed her past the point of madness before pushing her back, slowing her down again. Patience, love. Patience. 

He keeps her on the edge, never quite letting her fall and taking savage satisfaction in the way she’s gone past begging. The way her lust has burned away all of her niceties and she’s slipped past tenderness and pleas, right into anger. He loves it. Loves how his little mouse transforms into a hellcat and fights him every step of the way.

She’s spitting out profanities through clenched teeth and there’s a fire in her eyes that he marvels at. How had he never bothered to discover this Molly before? How had he done what he’d always reprimanded John for? Seeing, but not observing. 

But he’s taken everything in now. Learned every single inch of her, inside and out. Sweet Molly with the diamond spine and gentle hands. 

His Molly, _his._

His control is starting to slip now. She’s taken those hands, not quite gentle at the moment, and gripped him firmly. Stroking surely, she steals away his concentration. It’s his turn to hiss through clenched teeth and to glare at the smug smile on her face. Fine, then. He’ll give her what she wants, what they both want, desperately. 

Finally, _finally_ , Sherlock sinks himself inside of his Molly and there are those hoarse bird cries he adores. He murmurs her name reverently into her skin, over and over and over and over again, unable to think past the tightness and the heat of her. 

He’s as deep as he can go and the heat before is nothing compared to the inferno he feels now. The sensory overload is almost too much for him. All Sherlock knows is Molly surrounding him. The feel of her, the sounds she’s making, the taste of her lingering on his tongue. 

The both of them race towards the edge together and he knows it won’t take much more than another thrust. Two. Three. Before he breaks, he reaches down to where they’re joined and presses a thumb against her. All she needs before she shatters, taking him with her. They clutch at each other, bodies tense in rapt pleasure before languidly sinking back down to reality.

The aftermath is quiet. The two of them with their heaving breaths stare at each other, each on their side and content to just enjoy the chemical rush for a moment. 

The tenderness steals it’s way back in as she reaches up to brush her mouth against his. Just a whisper of a kiss that he chases down in order to steal a real one. 

Sliding his fingers along her side and tracing each vertebrae, Sherlock hooks his arms around the tuck her waist, rolling over onto his back and pulling Molly on top of him. She yelps at the sudden shift in her world but giggles softly once she’s settled.  He smiles at her in return, wanting nothing more at the moment. Not a case or even a cigarette. Just his Molly, breathing softly against him as she tries to battle the urge to sleep. 

She’s mouthing “I love you’s” into his skin. No sound. Just the movement of her mouth and the tapping of her fingers over his heart repeating the phrase over and over again in Morse code until Morpheus catches her and slips her away. 

It’s only when he hears the soft snore that signals the start of her REM cycle that Sherlock links his fingers between hers, anchoring their entwined hands over his heart and answers her in kind. 

“I love you, Molly. I love you.”


End file.
